Sadly
by GiulietteRose
Summary: If Wendla had the abortion, and she lived, what would happen if Ilse stood up to Frau Bergmann?


After realizing that Jonathan Groff was God, I had to write another story about the smart Melchior Gabor and the beautiful Wendla Bergmann. I knew that if I didn't start now, I would never do it. So here I am, 11:29 at night, with a story fresh in my mind since Saturday (it's Wednesday), and ready to write. I got a few very good comments on my last W/M story and I hope this one is as satisfactory. Read and review. If you don't I wiw weewy feew vewy sad :'(. So review!

_Enjoy! Giuliette. _

_**~WBMG~**_

Mama made me. I had no idea, none _whatsoever_, that she would make me go through the pain and the suffering. It had been two weeks since Mama made me have an _abortion_. I have not left my room once. She leaves a tray of food at my door three times a day. I barely touch it. I can hear her talk about me. She scoffs at my pain: "She'll grow out of it." "This is such a terrible response, she'll thank me one day!" "I would not want my daughter living with that _bastard child_ in my house. _Or_ with that arrogant boy, the one that got her in that condition. I did right by her."

I can't stand her. It makes me wonder whether she would kill me if her mother told her to. A shudder goes down my spine just thinking about how terrible a woman she is. I don't think that she really loves me, or anybody for that matter.

I stay in my room all day, all night, all the time. I open the window to get a breath of fresh air. Something my child never was able to do. It makes me feel guilty.

I am week, tired, and in so much pain. My friends come by once every few days. They try to get me to open up. I can't. There is just no way I can do that.

"We know how you must be feeling." Says Anna.

"Really, we do, but you can't just be sitting here all day and night. You haven't been outside in weeks. It's _finally_ beautiful outside." Agreed Thea.

Really? They know how I must be feeling? Because last time I checked, none of them ever felt so close to somebody. Gotten pregnant and then had their mothers kill the baby nearly killing them in the process. Mama didn't care about me. She only cared about her stupid reputation! Now the baby is gone. Melchior is in some reformatory god knows where! And I am in so much pain. More than any of them have ever felt. Unlike anything they have ever felt. It hurts more than a belt to your flesh, more than a whip to your back. Because that eventually _stops_. It hurts in your heart. Like you're being stabbed. But the knife isn't leaving your chest; it just stays there, growing more intense with each and every passing second. I need him. I need him so badly. But, but I didn't say anything.

Martha had her head held down. She knew what a belt to your flesh felt like. It was pain beyond another, but this seemed different.

I lifted up my dress to show them the scar that having the abortion left. They all cringed and closed their eyes.

"Please, go, please." I finally said. It was what I wanted to say for hours. What I wanted to say to anybody who ever entered my room. That was the first time I had spoken in two weeks. My voice was shaky and hoarse. My eyes filled with tears. And I let them stream down my face.

The three of them left in an awkward silence. I could sense that the second they left they would talk about me as if they know best.

Bullshit.

_**~WBMG~**_

Another two weeks had slowly passed. I still hadn't left my room and I had not said a word since I told my friends to leave.

It had been over a month since I saw Melchior last. I doubt he even knew that the baby was gone. He probably thought that he would come home to me, very pregnant and quite happy. A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Wendla, can I come in?" rang the voice of Ilse, sweet and gentle. I couldn't get up. The pain was too bad. My stomach was still sore from the procedure.

She opened the door without my consent. I didn't care. I wanted to see her. She had not come by since she ran away, and I longed to see her. I knew she would not try to feel my pain. She would not try to tell me that she "knows what I must be feeling."

She went up to me, kissed me on the forehead, and sat on my bed.

"I have some news for you. I think you'll like it."

She thrust a letter into my hands.

_Dear Ilse,_

Well, I made it. After weeks of planning, I have escaped the reformatory and am on my way back to town. I'll be there within a day. Tell Wendla that I am desperate to see her and tell her to meet me at the graveyard behind the church on Wednesday night. Tell her that I'll be there at midnight at Moritz's grave. Make sure she knows that I love her and that I would never do anything to hurt her. Tell her that I am truly sorry about what happened to her. Ilse, I knew there was a possibility of that happening. And I feel terrible about making her go through what she went through. But having an intimate relationship with her was all I wanted. I needed her. I needed to be inside her. Feel her around me. It was the only way I could show her my love and how much I love her. I love her truly I do, with all my heart. I'll see her hopefully tomorrow night.

_More than all my love,_

_Melchi Gabor_

I stopped reading the letter with tears in my eyes. He loved me, he truly did. And tonight was Wednesday! But I couldn't. I couldn't get out of bed the pain was unbearable. But…there was always Ilse.

I took a deep breath. "Ilse, will you do me a huge favor?" My voice was almost unrecognizable. It sounded more like a croak then my actual voice.

"Anything, Wendla, anything."

"Go tonight. Meet him there. Tell him that I couldn't come tonight. Tell him to come by my house. I'll explain everything here. Just tell him that I need him, and I need him so badly."

"Of course!" tears were budding in her eyes. "I'll do anything for you."

I felt bad. The prospect of making Ilse meet at Moritz's grave seemed almost cruel. But I couldn't go. And I needed to see him.

She spent the rest of the day cooing to me and rocking me back and forth. We both cried and we both grieved. At eight o'clock my mother made her leave. With one nod she left.

_**~WBMG~**_

(3RD PERSON)

As Melchior at down in front of Moritz's grave he started to have doubts. There was just no way that she couldn't come. She wouldn't stand him up.

"She'll be here. I know she will." But even to himself he was lying. He had no way of knowing she would. "Oh, look! A new grave; Ann Zilchnitz. Born 1809, died 1891. She lived a good life. I just wished that you lived that long. To have children and to see them grow up and have children of their own. I just hope that Wendla is alright."

As he said it a pitter-patter of feet caught him by surprise. His voice got hitched in his throat. His hopes went to an ultimate high and were dropped to an instant low when the woman he saw was not Wendla, but Ilse.

"Listen, Melchi. She couldn't make it here tonight. She wants you to go to her house. She'll explain everything there."

"Wait. Ilse, what happened? Is she all right? The baby. Is the baby all right?"

At that moment Ilse bawled her eyes out. Melchior looked at her in horror.

"The baby is dead. Frau Bergmann made Wendla get an abortion. She barely eats. She hasn't been out of her room in over a month. She hasn't spoken to anybody…she only spoke to me because she asked me to come here tonight. She sounds terrible. Her voice is gone. And she cries for you, all the time. She wants _you_ and only you. She won't speak to her mother. The bitch. I swear that woman can't go a sentence without calling her daughter a whore and a slut and then telling anybody that will listen that she will grow out of her grief and learn that she disgraced the family. Wendla almost died from the procedure. She lost a lot of blood and all of her strength. She couldn't get out of bed tonight, but she wanted to she really wanted to. She loves you, Melchior."

Melchior sat down on Moritz's grave. For the first time in his life, somebody saw him cry. It was just like any other person crying, but was different because it was Melchior. Sure he cried when Moritz died. But in his room, when he was alone. When he was at Moritz's funeral hatred for Moritz's father dominated and he could no longer cry. He was supposed to be so strong. But here he was, fifteen years old and crying like he was two.

"You have every right to cry. It was your baby too. You are a strong man. But even stronger now that you've cried." She embraced him tightly.

Suddenly hatred overtook sadness.

_**~WBMG~**_

An urgent banging was heard on the Bergmann door at a quarter to one. Melchior needed to get in.

"What do _you _want?" Frau Bergmann said as she opened the door.

But Melchior just ran past her. He ran as fast as he could to get to the top floor of the large house where he knew that Wendla slept.

When he knocked down the door he saw Wendla tears streaming down her face, and her hand rubbing her stomach.

When she turned her head, her eyes grew wide. He sat down on the foot of her bed and embraced her with all he had. It felt so good to hold her once again. They cried together, and wouldn't stop.

Three minutes later Frau Bergmann came storming in with her husband. Ilse was trailing be hind her with a huge smile on her face upon seeing the two together.

"There is no way that you are staying in my house. I really don't care the least that you are my daughter, but you have disgraced me far too many times for me to accept you. I really don't care where you live. You clearly are old enough to make your own decisions."

"You know what?" piped up a seemingly silent Ilse. "Fuck you, you fucking fuck. You have done nothing right by her. She is merely a child and you are telling her to grow up? Yeah she got pregnant, she had an intimate relationship with a guy who was _not_ her husband. But you know who I think is really at fault here? I think _you_ are. Yeah, I do. You refused to tell her what sex was. You refused to tell her what would happen if she did it, therefore ensuring that she would have no idea what she was doing when she was doing it. But she didn't have _sex_. She made love to Melchior. She loves him and he loves her. Yeah, if you have a baby when you are too young you will get looks from the people in the town for a few weeks. Then when the baby comes you'd have a few more weeks of uncomfortable looks. But then when people get used to having you around with a child, you get joy. They are all happy for you and want you to be happy. Having an unplanned pregnancy, that's forgivable. Killing a child without the mother or the father's consent is murder. And since we are all familiar with the bible, we know that murder is forbidden. Even unborn children are people. Actually, while trying not to hurt your selfish reputation, _you_ almost killed your own _daughter_. And that is definitely unforgivable."

"_Get. Out. Of. My. House. _All three of you! And never come back." Snapped Frau Bergmann. Wendla looked at her father who had his head down in shame.

Melchior picked Wendla up, and left the house in silence with Ilse by his side.

_**~WBMG~**_

Wendla woke up in Melchior's bed the next morning. She was huddled next to him and she could smell the sweet smell in his hair. A few minutes later Fanny Gabor officially woke them up. Fanny had been always nicer to her than her own mother and she had always been there for support and for somebody to talk to.

Weeks passed and Wendla still wasn't well. Fanny tended to her and nursed her. But she was still week.

Even though she wasn't particularly well, she was happy. Well, happier than she had been. She was with the love of her life. Fanny said that she would still be able to have children.

Wendla and Melchior couldn't wait until that day came.

_**~WBMG~**_

So, did you like it? Love it? Hate it? TELL ME! No flames, just constructive criticism…

_Love you all! _

_Giuliette_


End file.
